The Day Before
by Quillerella
Summary: What was Jareth's day like before Sarah wished Toby away? What does Jareth do on a day off? The musings of a newbie, an attempt at Oneshot.


_Author's note: Unfortunately, the Labyrinth isn't mine. This is my first story, so don't eat me alive! I thought I'd try my hand at musing about what Jareth's day was like before Sarah waltzed into his life. Enjoy!_

**The Day Before**

A bright light. Too bright. Why must those imbecilic goblins disturb my rest? I barely fell into my bed, and yet they are already causing a ruckus with who knows what, torches and all nature of flammable things I must have left lying around. Perhaps it was time I opened my eyes; after all, if those goblins are tearing down my castle, I must put a stop to it. There would not be a Labyrinth without the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

Sighing, I opened my eyes groggily before realizing that havoc was not being wreaked upon my home as I assumed. It was merely morning, and I had slept soundly through the night without a dream to disturb me. How unusual. Typically, I woke at least once during the night due to an intense dream, usually dealing with the next runner of my fabulous Labyrinth.

For those of you who may not have guessed yet, I am Jareth, the King of the Goblins, and the Master of the Labyrinth, in the Underground. I looked appreciatively around my spacious chambers – completely unharmed by the grubby hands of my subjects. My long, black velvet curtains were in perfect condition, as was the scarlet silk I slept upon each night. My study, brimming with ancient tomes of the Underground, was untouched, a thin layer of dust floating around the books I had not perused for some time. My ornately sculpted fireplace was empty, devoid of dancing flames, having burnt out while I slumbered. The doors to my bathing chambers and closet were closed and still varnished, shining keenly in the sharp morning light. Smiling satisfactorily, I sauntered over to my closet. Some days, it felt delicious to be the King of the Goblins, others, it felt as if I'd taken up permanent residence in the Bog of Eternal Stench. At least the sun shone today, and I started off feeling grateful for my position.

Today, I had no official business planned, there were no runners coming for at least three weeks, and I had the day to myself, to do with it what I willed. Thank goodness. I had been much too busy lately. Maintaining the illusions of my Labyrinth was exhausting, to say in the least, and when I had to constantly morph the land to suit the mind of each challenger – well, I'm not an endless fountain of magic. Even the King of the Goblins must rest occasionally. Perhaps I'd take a stroll through my gardens. That was the one, private place, aside from my castle, that remained unchanged throughout each run of the Labyrinth, and none of my goblins dared to disturb me there unless there was grave and urgent news to be dealt with. They knew better. My feet were always too ready to kick an irritating goblin out of my way.

I selected my favourite pair of black breeches, a scarlet poet's shirt, and a leather vest. As I pulled on my soft, black gloves, I felt myself waking up ever more. Something about being appropriately attired for the day just brings more energy into one's step. Which reminded me, of course, how could I forget my boots? Those I pulled on with utmost care. Along with my gloves, my boots were a trademark signature, and I didn't feel right unless my feet were clad in such a fashion.

I left my room immediately, my boots clicking satisfactorily upon the flagstones in the corridor outside of my chambers. I casually manipulated the air in front of me to form a crystal. 

After juggling it between my hands for a moment (just to amuse myself, because, honestly, I am _so_ good at moving them around), I used it to summon my most intelligent goblin subject, a male goblin by the name of Chokitel. I could trust him to send messages, bring me important documents, and spend the course of a whole day without inebriating himself on the filth I allow my subjects to swill back. Goodness knows why I still let them drink that wretched stuff, but I fear I'd have a country full of convulsing goblins, going through withdrawals at the same moment, and it is a fairly likely possibility that ninety-percent of my kingdom would go up in flames.

Chokitel arrived promptly, saluting formally. As my most trusted goblin, he knew what was expected of him in the presence of his liege, and he never failed to perform infallibly.

"How does this morning find you, Your Majesty?" Chokitel asked me in his low, scratchy voice.

"Well enough," I replied smoothly. "I was pleased to wake up to an intact castle, to be honest." Chokitel nodded in agreement. His short, black hair bobbed along with the movement of his ovular head.

"What can I do for you?" the goblin asked, bowing. His button nose nearly touched his stubby feet, clad in clumsy black shoes. Sometimes he was slightly over the top, but who was I to complain? If one goblin subject was intelligent enough to serve me properly, I was happy enough. Besides, I had magic enough to compensate for the horrid lack of service.

"You can bring my morning meal to my gardens. I shall be eating by my tree," I commanded imperiously. Chokitel saluted again, his voluminous black robe swirling all over the place as his wide green eyes brightened. He set off down the hall at once, the orange colour of his rough skin standing out amazingly from his black clothing. I am still at a loss as to understand why he insists on wearing that _ridiculous_ robe. I am of the opinion that he thinks it makes him more intimidating. Good grief.

I lazily pulled out more crystals from the air, never failing to enjoy the sensation of forcing unseen particles into the hard, scintillating brilliance of my magic crystals. I then proceeded to smash them soundly against the stone beneath my feet. The glitter they produced was enough to envelop my whole entire form as I transported myself to my favourite tree within my gardens. Of course, I could have just snapped my fingers, but what is a day without a little glittery drama? I sat down regally against the trunk of my magnificent oak tree. The branches extended around the trunk in elegant fingers, providing me with the perfect relief from the heat of the morning sun. I found this tree to be especially significant, because it was so large and impressive. It reminds me of me, every time I sit against it. It dominates the landscape of my gardens.

I had no eyes for my rose hedges today, nor my fountains or lush lawn. As soon as Chokitel reappeared with my breakfast, I began to feel edgy. Perhaps I had just chosen the wrong part of my tree to lean against, but my stomach was squirmy and uncomfortable. I frowned at the sky. With no pressing matters to be dealt with today, why, on my free day, was I 

feeling so anxious? Was it my dreamless night? I slept better than I habitually did. Was this how Abovegrounders felt after – what was it they called the custom? – sleeping in? Surely not, otherwise it would not be such a revered pastime. Sighing, I crushed a crystal ball over the tray Chokitel had brought, and watched my breakfast fade into nothingness. I leaned back against my tree, stretching out my arms and using them as a pillow behind my head.

I would just approach this uneasiness logically. I had slept unusually well. I had not been disturbed by a dream, meaning that the Labyrinth would remain quiet for a time. Did I really feel anxious just because I had a few days of absolute free time flowing out before me? I loved what I did – sometimes, the thrill of terror I managed to inspire in the runners was so satisfying that I could use that uplifting sensation to get me through three entire sessions of goblin civil court (an unintelligible, highly boring and stressful experience). But surely I was not so addicted to my kingly duties that I felt anxious at the prospect of a day off, as the mortals put it?

I closed my eyes, and then opened them again. I would just appreciate my gardens today. I focused on a hedge which I'd magically shaped into a likeness of me. The air was stifling and hot this morning in my gardens, more uncomfortable than I'd ever felt it. I switched to a rose hedge, dotted with black and scarlet flowers, after my head began to feel oddly heavy. But each time I tried to admire the perfect shape, curl, and proportions of my roses, my eyelids protested, demanding to be let down.

I normally never napped. Napping is an unprofessional pastime, and is so unbecoming for a king, particularly if he is caught at it by his subjects or peers. But as I was in my private gardens, and as the stuffy air was pressing in on me, I decided to let go of my protocol for one day and take a nap.

My eyes opened next to cool, fragrant air, a slight breeze, and the dim twinkle of twilight in the Underground. I was flabbergasted. I had wasted a whole entire day snoozing against the trunk of a tree! And my back was ridiculously sore. Feeling sour, I stomped back into the castle and began climbing the spiral staircase that led to my tower. Why was I so driven to sleep? Several goblins practically accosted me on the way up, squealing about odd stomach sensations and sleeping families. I ignored them – the goblins were always odd, why did they have to pester me with every issue that they came up against?

Just as I slammed my door shut, the whole entire castle rocked so forcefully that I was pitched forwards onto the marble floor of my chambers. A thunderous crack rent the peaceful air of my Underground evening, and a chill whispered through the whole Labyrinth.

Someone had wished a child away, someone that had been unforeseen in my dreams. That never occurred. Ever. I felt a shiver of unease course through my body before I raced out into the hallway again. Chokitel was there, looking frightened.

"My Lord, a child, a child has been wished away –"

"I know!" I snarled viciously. If I had not foreseen the runner's failure, that could only mean that there was a possibility of defeat. I used a convenient cloud of glitter to change into 

my barn owl form, before flying to the upper story window of a fine white house in the Aboveground. Within was the girl who had wished a child away, my unforeseen challenger, a mere girl of fifteen. I nearly rolled my eyes in disgust as I tried to break my way through the window. She was shrieking, and when I finally managed to burst through her window, her green eyes sparkled with tears.

"You're him, aren't you?" she whispered once I'd managed to reveal myself.

_There you have it, Quillerella's first attempt at a fanfiction. I suck at short stories, so the ending is not as good as I would like it to be, but constructive criticism is welcome!_


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